


Tongue Tied

by WynterRobin



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Bruce Wayne is Batman, Damian Wayne is Robin, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, F/M, Fluff, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Reader-Insert, Tim Drake is Red Robin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 08:55:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10408515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WynterRobin/pseuds/WynterRobin
Summary: As it turned out, Damian was not good at this. Which was surprising, to say the least. Words had always been his strong suit, not to mention his father was the billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne. Regardless of this, whenever he tried to ask you out he turned into a fumbling idiot, mixing up his words and turning tomato red from the neck up. It was absolutely humiliating. You thought it was adorable.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on tumblr: Damian has a crush on the reader but gets embarrassed and messes up whenever he tries to tell her how he feels. Damian is probably 17/18 in this.   
> Follow me on tumblr here! https://wynterrobin.tumblr.com/

It was turning out to be a relatively uneventfully day all around. Not that anyone was complaining, patrol had taken a turn south last night and they’d all come home a little roughed up and dead tired, three hours later than planned. None of them were strangers to sleep deprivation, but as nothing was going on anyway the boys had decided to retreat to the den to watch movies for the day. It was Tim’s choice today, which meant that they were making their way through the original star wars movies when you popped your head around the door.  
Damian was relieved, quite frankly. Tim’s taste in movies very rarely agreed with him, and he’d been struggling to pay attention for awhile now. The only reason he was still awake was that Tim kept nudging him and attempting to explain parts of the movie to him, and even though he was whispering, Tim Drake would not be ignored when he was on one of his ‘geek rants’.  
“Pssssssst,” you whispered, waving at Damian, even though his attention had been on you since you’d appeared. Jason grunted. “You can talk out loud youknow. Nobody’s actually watching this,” “Hey!” Tim shot him a wounded glance, to which Jason just shrugged. Damian raised an eyebrow, motioning for you to continue. “Okay, so. I was down in the batcave, and youknow how Bruce wants us all to be well rounded fighters or whatever?” Damian nodded. “Yeah, so I decided I was gonna practice my swordsmanship, and Bruce was down there working on a case or whatever, and well, he says I suck.” You made a face, and Damian snorted in amusement. Trust Bruce to be blunt about these things. Dick chuckled from his position in the armchair, clearly listening in, and you threw him a wounded look.  
Thing is, you’d been with Bruce for longer than Damian had, arriving only a little after Tim. And you were still terrible with most weapons. Also, Damian was completely head over heels for you, but that was irrelevant. It just meant that his stomach did an embarrassing little flip at your next words. “Bruce said I should ask you to help me Dami. So um, if you’re free this evening…?” You threw him a pleading look from under your lashes.  
Damian, in fact, wasn’t free this evening. He had landed wrong on his ankle last night and twisted it, Alfred had warned him to stay off his feet for the day if he intended on going on patrol tonight. One look at your face though, and that suddenly became completely inconsequential. He nodded. “Of course. Father’s right, a weakness like that could prove fatal on the battlefield.” He was trying for nonchalance, but his voice was gruff. You beamed at him, bouncing over to press a quick kiss against his cheek. “Thanks Dami! I’ll go tell Bruce,” You cheered, already halfway out the door.  
Damian’s expression was stoic, except for the uncontrollable blush spreading across his cheekbones. Damn it. Jason gave a low whistle. “Maaaan, you are whipped,” Dick nodded knowingly, and Tim hummed in agreement. Damian gave him a nudge with his foot. It was Tim’s own fault for sitting at his feet. He chose not to acknowledge Jason. It was an old argument, one that always lead to the youngest being incredibly embarrassed. The best defense against this particular topic was to stay silent. His brothers were having none of it, however. “Just tell her,” Dick urged, leaning forward in his seat to look Damian in the eye. “She obviously likes you too. Even Bruce can see it, he’s clearly trying to win you some alone time,“ Damian shrugged. “You cannot be sure of that,” But despite himself he felt something leap in his chest at the prospect. He struggled to push the hope back down. He was the son of the world’s greatest detective, he would have noticed if you liked him in that way. Maybe it was true that you were closer to him than you were the others, but that was just coincidence, he was sure. You simply understood each other, nothing more. Dick saw the momentary flicker of uncertainty on Damian’s face. At last he was getting through that thick skull of his. His next words to his baby brother were casual as he turned back to the movie. “You’ll never know for sure unless you tell her how you feel little wing,” Damian huffed, not dignifying that with a reply. He tried to ignore the sense of truth to what Dick had just said.

To his credit, over the next few days Damian did try. He made the decision that evening during their training session. He had to admit that Bruce was right about your sword skills. If it came to you needing to use one in the field you would effectively be useless. He kind of hated himself for finding that fact almost endearing. But standing behind you, adjusting your grip and stance with careful touches that sent little jolts of electricity through his veins, he realised that this had gone too far for him to be able to ignore it any longer. And when you grinned up at him, he knew it would be worth it. 

His first attempt was during patrol. Bruce had cleared him to go out despite his ankle, partially because it had healed somewhat since the night before but mostly because arguing with Damian was unnecessarily exhausting, and Bruce was tired enough as it was. It was a thankfully quiet night, and you were seated on the edge of an apartment building rooftop when Damian came over to sit beside you. “Sup Robin?” You greeted easily, swinging your legs over the ledge. “Songbird,” He seemed somewhat uncomfortable, you noted with surprise. “I -” He paused, cleared his throat. “Would you like to see a movie with me?” His face was flushed, and you frowned. Was he not feeling well? You often cuddled up and watched movies together when one of you was under the weather. Well, you cuddled, Damian allowed you to. “Sure, how about in the morning? We can do the whole blankets and popcorn thing. You should probably get some sleep tonight though, you don’t look so great,” You studied him, concerned. He simply nodded at your words, and you swore his face got a little redder. Next thing you knew he was gone, jumping between the buildings with a dexterity you could only admire.

As it turned out, Damian was not good at this. Which was surprising, to say the least. Words had always been his strong suit, not to mention his father was the billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne. Regardless of this, whenever he tried to ask you out he turned into a fumbling idiot, mixing up his words and turning tomato red from the neck up. It was absolutely humiliating. He tried to tell you how he felt several times during the next few days. Each time was even more of a disaster than the last. For your part, you found Damian’s sudden inarticulacy around you to be undeniably adorable, but confusing as hell. His newfound tendency to freeze up around you and honest-to-god blush didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the family either. You felt you were being left out of some inside joke when Jason or Tim would snigger at something Damian had said or done. It was perplexing, to say the least. Especially when one morning you walked into the kitchen for breakfast to find Damian seated at the table, pen in hand and frowning down at a piece of writing paper. He didn’t seem to notice your entrance, and curiously you came up behind him and hooked your chin over his shoulder. “Whatcha doing?” “Nothing!” His head jerked up and he snatched up the piece of paper, scrunching it into a ball in his fist. You raised an eyebrow, backing off. “Ohhkay then,”

As soon as you had left, Damian slammed his head down onto the tabletop. Earlier that morning Alfred had taken pity on his sorry state and suggested that Damian write you a letter instead, seeing as telling you in person wasn’t working out. Damian had scoffed at the idea initially; letters were a cowards way out. Damian was going to be a man about this. Alfred had brought him around to the idea eventually though, hedging that perhaps such means of expressing oneself were for a more refined class only. It had been going well until you had caught him. He was starting to think he was doomed. 

You had taken to practicing your swordsmanship every day now, and with Damian’s help you were slowly but surely improving. The more competent you became the less of a chore training felt, and to your surprise that night you found you were actually having fun. Damian was his usual confident self with a sword in hand, and now that he was satisfied that your drills were somewhat passable you had taken to sparring. Damian of course always won, but you couldn’t bring yourself to mind, not when he seemed to enjoy it so much. You made what you thought was a decent pass with your sword, confident that this time you would disarm him. Instead, Damian easily sidestepped, dodging your blow and lunging forward, knocking your sword from your grasp. The force of the blow unsteadied you and you overbalanced, huffing out a surprised gasp as you hurtled for the floor. At the last second Damian reached out and grabbed your arm, halting your fall. He grinned down at you smugly, and you were suddenly acutely aware of what a mess you were.

Your hair was coming loose from your ponytail and sticking to your face, as was your shirt. You were out of breath and flushed, while Damian stood there in all his perfection, completely unaffected as he smirked at you. That, you decided, was not okay. Quick, too fast for him to stop you, you kicked out a leg, aiming for his knees. The strike connected and you savored your partner’s shout of surprise as his legs went out from under him and you both tumbled to the floor. A second later you were both laughing, your limbs tangled awkwardly together. You weren’t quite sure how it happened, but suddenly you became acutely aware of Damian’s closeness, strong arms braced on either side of your head to keep himself from crushing you. His face was mere inches from yours, and when your eyes connected you felt a blush spread across your cheeks that had nothing to do with exertion.

The next thing you knew, Damian was leaning in, and your lips were pressed together and he was kissing you. Time seemed to stand still for an instant, and then you were kissing him back forcefully, freeing your hands from beneath his body to tangle them in his hair. When you eventually parted, you were both out of breath, and the way Damian was looking at you made your heart stutter. And then he was grinning at you, and you were grinning back, and he leaned in again to steal a chaste kiss. “Would you like to go out with me?” His words were whispered against your lips, and your response was to pull his mouth to yours again heatedly. When you parted this time, there was no hesitation. “I would like that very much,” “Good,” He smirked.


End file.
